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Damian blinked down seriously at the Gotham warehouse. It was highly guarded, with twenty-seven security cameras in, on, and around the premises. There were also over a dozen guards with heavy machine guns patrolling the perimeter. Whatever they were protecting was important. Unfortunately, Damian knew what it was.
“What have you gotten yourself into, Drake?” He muttered to himself.
The assignment that Red Robin had taken upon himself for the week was supposed to be simple: an out of town drug trafficking ring. The criminals were newcomers, so they’d be easy to take care of. In theory.
Instead, the cave had received a distress call from Tim twenty minutes ago. Batman was off-world with the League, Grayson was in Bludhaven, Cain was in Hong Kong, Todd was off doing whatever the h*** he did with the outlaws. The only ones on patrol that night besides Drake and Damian was Brown and Aunt Kate. But they were handling a robbery in progress across the city.
And so, Robin being the only vigilante in the near vicinity, Damian found himself causing the origin of Red Robin’s signal.
He was not having fun.
But Damian was determined to save his idiot of a brother by himself. Otherwise Thomas would have to be awakened from his ‘normal’ sleep schedule and sent out. Damian didn’t need help.
“Robin, how’s it looking?”
Damian startled at the sound of Gordon in his ear. “Fine, Oracle. The adversaries are heavily armed and have high security for foreigners, but nothing I am unable to handle.”
“Alright, Robin,” she answered cautiously, “but alert me immediately if that changes. The Signal can be up and out at a moment's notice.”
Damian scoffed as he pulled out his grappling hook and made his way to the roof of the warehouse. “Signal is not needed. And I hardly think he’d appreciate being awoken.”
“He’s well aware that he’s on standby for emergencies,” Oracle replied, “especially when Bats is out of town.”
Damian grunted as he took out a few guards standing by the entrance to the roof. “Can’t talk,” he replied, “I’m going in.”
*****
Damian crept around the warehouse silently, starting with the upstairs offices. He found countless damaging contracts, and paper files. Pictures, and evidence. He recorded it all and sent it to Oracle, but there was still no sign of Red Robin.
That is, until he reached the stairs leading down to the main warehouse.
When Damian reached the door at the bottom of the stairs, he paused. There was something off, but he couldn’t quite place it. He strained his ears, searching for some out of place sound. He found it.
A moment later, a scream cut through the air, causing the boy to stiffen. He knew that Scream.
Drake.
He slowly eased the door open, heart pounding, Damian slunk in the shadows, approaching the source of the moans, grunts, and sounds of pain. He made his way atop the ctreates, and flew up into the rafters. Then ran along the beam towards the center of the building.
What Damian saw next rooted him in his place.
“I’ll ask you one more time, brat !” Bronte Jones, the Boston drug king in charge of the Gotham branch, yelled straight at Drake.
Oh, Drake.
Damian gagged at the state of his brother. Timothy Drake was tied down to a metal chair, his cape ripped off and tossed to the side. The rest of his uniform was in equal disorder, ripped, burned, and bloody. The exposed parts of his skin were bruised, cut, or in some other way harmed.His mask was mostly left alone, probably due to the anti-tampering measures built into every mask and cowl.
Tim coughed, and spit blood to the side. “Nope.”
Bronte growled, before launching forward and punching Red Robin in the jaw. Hard. So hard that the chair rocked backwards, and one of the goons needed to hold it steady.
“You will tell me the identities of yourself, and the other Gotham vigilantes. You will tell me the best drug parts in this town. Or else you will die in this warehouse. Wouldn’t want your little clan dealing with that, now would you?”
Tim grinned. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”
Damian scowled. No, no, no! Don’t antagonize the kidnapper! It’s protocol!
But Drake didn’t hear Damian’s silent pleading. He only laughed.
Bronte didn’t seem to know what was so funny, so he continued on with his beating. A few punches later, and Damian found himself gripping the rafters. He should do something, he knew that, but he just. Couldn’t. Move. All he did was watch on in horror.
Bronte paused with his punches, taking a breath. “This clearly isn’t working,” he stated, “let’s kick it up a notch.
Jones walked over to a crate, atop which an array of tools lay on it. The man passed over newly quenched cigarettes - oh god, he’d use those on Drake, hadn’t he? The burns matched up - wrenches, knives, and garrotes. His hand landed on a batton that Damian recognised immediately.
“Oh no,” he whispered, his face going white.
Jones turned back to Red Robin, and shoved the baton into his ribs. Tim let out a scream at the sudden crackle of electricity that even Damian could hear from high up.
“How about we wait for the other bats to show up?” Bronte asked conversationally, still torturing Tim. “What do you think they’ll give to get one of their birds back?”
Tim laughed, though the sound came out more like a hacking cough. Blood leaked down his chin. “No one’s coming for me,” he said, “they’re all too busy. Or they hate me.”
Damian startled. What? No, that wasn’t true. He and Drake were past their hatred, weren’t they? Hadn’t he proven himself? Hadn’t he showed he cared?
Bronte growled, before signalling to his goons. “Fine, I guess there’s no reason to keep you alive then.”
Damian gasped. No, no this couldn’t happen! He glanced around, searching for something to aid his rescue attempt, there were too many men to handle on his own.
“Oracle, send Signal.” Damian muttered, knowing the microphone would pick his words up. He didn’t have time to listen for an answer though, it was time to act.
Robin leapt down from the heights of the warehouse, drawing his katana mid flip. He landed efficiently in front of Bronte Jones, glaring at the man who had dared to hurt his brother.
“Step away from Red Robin,” he said slowly, rising to his full height of five feet, two inches.
The man laughed. “You little brat. You’re outnumbered and outgunned.”
Damian tilted his head, radiating confidence that most definitely did not feel. “Very well,” he stated stiffly. “It is your funeral, as Nightwing says.”
A moment later, and he attacked. It was not as clean as he usually would, he was still fighting down panic, it was wild and desperate. But he still fought.
He downed four goons before he realised his current tactic wasn't working. He dodged a volley of bullets, he eyes falling upon Drake. The young man had slouched down in the chair, his eyes closed. Damian let out a curse in arabic. That idiot! He needed to stay awake!
Damian leapt forward, past the goons and Jones, past the table with horrid tools, past the downed bodies, and towards his brother. He threw down a smoke pellet to disguise his movements, and continued on his way. Once the area was completely covered, he attacked one more thug, intent on keeping up an illusion of his constant attacks.
Quickly, he made his way towards the out of commission vigilante, efficiently removing the rope bonds, and pulling him gently close. Damian could recognize broken ribs when he saw them.Once he was certain that Red Robin was secure at his side, he lifted up his grapple, and they rose swiftly out of the smoke. A moment later, along with a few more grapples, they were on an opposite roof.
Damian set his brother down, glancing behind for followers. The coast was clear.
“Red Robin?” Damian asked, leaning close. “Are you alright?” he cursed himself. Of course Drake wasn’t alright! Of all the times to act like Grayson, this was hardly it.
There was no response to his query, causing Damian to throw aside his self-flagellation.
“Drake?” Damian demanded more harshly. “Wake up! You are needed! You can’t die, that’s an order!” More silence. “Did you hear that? An order! From me! You hate me commanding you, so stick up for yourself!”
Damian breathed heavily, silently shaking. No, no no no! Drake couldn’t die!
“I…” Damian blinked, trying to figure out a course of action, but he couldn’t. He was frozen in place. mHe closed his eyes and breathed slowly through his nose, trying to calm himself.
“Dami?”
Damian gasped ever so slightly and looked down at the beaten and battered form of his brother. “Timothy? You’re alright?”
Timothy let out a light cough. “Seen better. Thanks for coming to get me.”
Damian couldn’t bring himself to make a sharp comeback. He just blinked down at his brother. He was awake. He was alive. He would be fine.
“Kay,” Drake said, “good talk. I’m gonna go to sleep now…”
Damian stiffened. “What? No! Timothy, you can’t!”
But the young man didn’t listen. Damian scrambled forward, grabbing his brother’s shoulders in an attempt to wake him as hard as he dared.
“Timothy?” Damian asked again, unable to strain the worry from his voice, “You can’t die. Father will be mad, and Grayson will stop functioning, and Todd will go on a rampage, and Brown will hide away, and Cain will strain herself to help everyone else while still falling apart, and Pennyworth won’t be able to live much longer with another heartbreak, he’s ancient as is. And Thomas won’t be able to handle it all either. And I…”
Damian paused, taking a shaky breath, before letting out a sentence that brought him both anguish and relief.
“Ahki, I don’t want you to die either!”
There were shouts from the surrounding buildings, feet hitting pavement, and Damian knew it was only a matter of time before they found them.
He reached over towards Timothy’s throat, searching for a heartbeat like he should have done from the beginning. He almost cried from relief when he felt the thrum. But it was weak. Too weak. He needed medical attention immediately, and not the kind at the cave. They needed Dr. Thompkins.
Damian stood up and searched the roof for something that could help them out of this situation. The tiniest part of him, who still thought like a league member, told him to run. To leave Timothy behind and run.
“No,” he told himself, “Timothy is stuck with me. We’re both getting out of this, or neither.”
The sounds of footsteps increased, thundering and shaking. They were closer, most likely from the stairwell leading to the roof both Robins now inhabited.
Damian drew his katana immediately and ran back to Red Robin, standing guard over his limp body. He would go down fighting, there was no other way he knew.
The tousling limbs and marching feet seemed to be all around him now - a part of him knew they weren’t really, that it was just his mind playing tricks. He took a breath, steadying himself.
“You and me, Timothy,” Damian spoke strongly, more to calm his own fear than anything else.
Just then the door to the roof slammed open, and in rushed three hulking thugs. Damian inhaled sharply - in fear, not that he’d ever admit it - and steadied his shaking hands.
But something was wrong. Instead of the goons rushing the pair of birds, they slumped to the ground. Behind them, standing in all his bright yellow glory, was The Signal. He had both escrima sticks drawn, and a grim smile on his face.
“Hey Robin,” he said, stepping over the bodies, “you called?”
*****
They made their way down to the street, able to carry between the two of them, and into the awaiting Batmobile. Thomas took the driver’s seat, Damian for once quiet about his ability to captain any moving vehicle, while the younger boy stayed with Timothy in the back.
The ride had been quiet, Duke not knowing what to say beyond the usual “what happened?” Damian shook when the question was asked, so Duke let it drop. An official report could be made later.
They made their way to Dr. Thompkins clinic, and came in the back way. She was already waiting - most likely due to Oracle calling ahead - and quickly ushered them into an awaiting room. Timothy, however, was brought someplace else.
Damian had resisted at first, panicking at the thought of his brother going anywhere out of sight, but Duke had pulled him back, easily disarming him and settling both of them on a bench. Damian had struggled and pulled and scratched and screamed in indignation, but Thomas hadn’t stopped holding on. Eventually, Damian’s anger gave way to huge, choking sobs. He hiccuped and curled his way into Duke’s chest, holding on for dear life. Duke just hummed and wrapped his arms around the terrified bird.
After a long, slow hour, Damian finally settled down into quiet whimpers. Duke continued to rub his back soothingly, but Damian couldn’t seem to fully calm down.
“He thought we wouldn’t come,” Damian choked out suddenly, and felt Duke steffen in surprise. “He said no one cared enough to save him. But I was right there, I watched them …”
Damian bit his lip to hold back another whimper, and Duke softened. “He was probably just saying that to get his captors to let him go,” Duke reasoned.
Damian hiccuped and shook his head, still tucked into Duke’s armored chest. “No, no he was right!”
Duke rubbed a little harder on his back. “No, he was-”
“I just stood there and watched!” Damian cried, “I came in and I saw what was happening, but I Could. Not. Move. I just … I just watched.”
“Sounds to me like you froze,” Duke replied. “You’ve been doing this longer than I have Damian, you should know that everyone freezes at one point or another.”
Damian shook his head fervently, but didn’t reply. Couldn’t reply.
They remained silent for some time, every so often Duke offering soft reasurences that went unnoticed by Damian. Eventually, Leslie came into the room.
“He’s stable,” she said when Duke looked over. Damian didn't have the energy to raise his head. “With some bed rest, he’ll be alright. You’re lucky you got to him when you did.”
Damian shuttered at the last word. No, he hadn’t been lucky. He’d been stupid, and weak. He shouldn’t have roze. He shouldn’t have-
Damian was jostled from his bout of self loathing when Duke stood up.
“Can we see him,” he asked.
Leslie nodded. “Follow me.”
*****
They settled down in the private room where Leslie had placed Timothy, but Damian couldn’t calm himself. He kept looking at his brother, bandaged, yes, but broken. He should have acted quicker.
Duke sat on the chair beside Tim’s bed, still carrying Damian. At another point, the boy would have profusely protested at such babying, but now he had no strength. Now, the most he could manage was tuck himself into Duke’s arms.
After a while, Duke rose, leaving Damian in the chair. He promised to return soon, just leaving long enough to call Babs and Steph & Kate, as well as grab something to eat. Maybe get some clothes as well.
“There’s that tea place near here you like, right?” Duke asked, and Damian mumbled his assent. “You’ll be alright?” he added right before leaving. “I won’t be gone forever. Try not to beat yourself up too much, okay?”
Damian straightened, trying to summon courage. “I …” he sank down, nodding tiredly.
Duke sighed softly and went out the door.
Damian sat staring at Drake for a long time. His brother didn’t move.
“Just wake up, ahki,” he sniffled.
*****
Tim was warm and comfortable. He felt the light fluffiness of pain meds blanket his senses, along with an actual blanket pulled all the way up to his shoulders. It felt warm and safe.
Wait - pain meds?
Tim blinked his eyes open, and briefly surveyed the room. It was one of the private ones in Leslie’s clinic, where they went when someone was seriously injured. Why was he here?
Oh.
The warehouse.
Tim mentally cringed at the flashes of memory that came with the realization. He’s delt with torture before, and honestly this time wasn’t the worst - fun fact: Ra’s Al Ghul lives up to the title “Demon’s Head - but he’d still gotten hurt. Thank goodness he’d sent out his distress signal and had gotten out. But he’d left Damian all alone to deal with the -
Damian.
Tim briefly panicked. Where was his brother? They’d gotten out, right? Maybe Duke had been woken up and provided back up, or Steph and Kate had-
A soft sniffle came from beside him.
Tim blinked and turned his head to find Damian tucked into a chair. He looked small, curled up like that. His hands gripped tightly at his Robin uniform. His eyes were unmasked and red, staring down at the floor. He sniffled again and rubbed at an eye.
“Just wake up, ahki.”
Oh.
It must have been bad.
Damian rarely cried.
But crying was good, in a way. He was alive, at least.
“Dami?” Tim croaked, finding his voice dry.
Damian jerked his face up, staring at Tim. His eyes were wide, and filled with relief. But also fear and … regret? Oh no, what had gone wrong?
“Dami,” he said again, a relieved smile on his face. “I knew you’d come.”
This had the opposite effect than expected. Damian’s eyes widened even more, and he scrambled backwards in his chair. “What?! No! You said-”
Tim sighed, “That was kind of stupid of me,” Tim cut in, “I thought if Bronte thought no one cared about me, then he’d just leave me behind long enough for one of you to grab me.”
Damian frowned. “But I still didn’t come fast enough. You were right. And when I got there I froze, Father would be so disappointed, I didn’t keep my head, and i-”
“Damian.” Tim interjected. “Come here.”
Damian pursed his lips, glancing at Tim’s injuries. But a moment later he complied, gingerly easing off of the chair and coming over towards the bed.
Tim held out his hand, and after a moment, Damian put his hand in his. Tim then pulled him closer, and rested the young boy's hand on his own chest. Right over the heart.
“Feel that?” he asked, and Damian nodded slightly. “I’m alive because of you okay? You came. I knew you would.”
Damian blinked back tears, and Tim was struck by just how young and vulnerable Damian looked. It wasn’t often the twelve year old let his walls down, and Tim felt guilty for bringing this on him. He seemed drained and exposed. Tim made a split second decision.
“Come on,” he said, scooching over as much as he could and patting the bed beside him.
“But-” Damian began, but Tim shushed him.
“I’m not taking no for an answer, Dami.”
Damian sighed and came back onto the bed. Tim pulled him closer, and the boy automatically curled into his side. Tim wrapped his arms around his brother and sighed into his hair.
“I’m alright, okay? And so are you. It’s alright now, Dami.”
Damian sighed, “Thank you, ahki.”
Tim smiled at the arabic word for brother. He liked it when they got along, no matter the circumstances. Tim bent down slightly and pressed a kiss to Damian’s head. The small boy let out a breath, and eased into soft snores. Good, he needed sleep.
Tim settled in and relaxed. A few minutes later Duke walked in in his Signal armor carrying a tray of drinks, the logo showing they were from a middleeastern tea place that Damian loved. He was followed by Kate and Steph, both in their respective uniforms.
“You guys alright?” Kate asked, walking past Duke and sitting on the chair.
Tim smiled softly. “Yeah, I think so.”
“Great,” Steph replied. “Then get some sleep.”
Tim laughed lightly, but he was warm and tired - which may have something to do with the pain killers Duke was not so subtly putting in - and had his little brother willingly snuggling him. He smiled again as the darkness washed over him.
They were alright.